


Just for Now

by SomeGoblin



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crush, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Guilt, Incest, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Sabotage, Same Age, Secret Identity, Time Travel, and there was only one bed, but i promise it is pure innocent fluff there is one chaste kiss, it is all boruto being awful at processing emotions, listen i know there are the tags incest and this is T and underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeGoblin/pseuds/SomeGoblin
Summary: Based during the Time Travel Arc of the Boruto anime. Boruto's always distantly been aware of the fact his dad had a bit of a rough childhood, but stories are a far different thing than seeing it first-hand. The image of his father as one of a figure of adulation is challenged when he's enmeshed in a village that still hates him, being driven to want to defend his father and make everything better for him all at once and ugh, Boruto is just so DONE with these EMOTIONS.Especially when he was already feeling sort of weird about his dad before any of this.It's the kinda thing that might make a kid try some dumb shenanigans!At the end of it all, he's not sure how the logistics of this whole "time travel" thing works, but he worriedly requests a promise from his father.(Fret not the T, this is pure puppy love affection, just wanted to err on the safe side)
Relationships: 12 year old Boruto/12 year old Naruto, Uzumaki Boruto/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 197





	Just for Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hihi! Had to get this out of my system, quick ("quick") little one-shot of an idea expanded. Sloppier and more simplistic than most of my work, but..... Sometimes u just gotta write a boy rapturously observe his dad who is also a kid
> 
> Anonymous comments are on! So is moderation! stay safe I love you!

“ _ UGH _ ,” Naruto groaned, shoving the door to his apartment open, arm fully extended but body half-slumped over. Boruto followed close behind, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his vest, save to reach and shut the door behind them both.

“ _ Right _ ,” he replied, flat and frank as the face he wore, echoing after the click of the door hinge.

Making a beeline to his kitchen, the boy wasted no time before rifling through his cupboards, grumbling along as he did, before coming to the inevitable conclusion of ramen (big surprise). Talking as he browsed, he continued, “I mean, I’m used to bad days at this point, but  _ come on. _ ”   
  


“Seriously,” the boy’s houseguest said, watching idly as his fa—the other boy browsed. Boruto shook his head with a quick rattle, reprimanding himself internally,  _ I’ve  _ ** _gotta_ ** _ get it through my dumb head, that’s not ‘Dad’ that’s Naruto. Naruto. Naruto. _ Continuing, he said, “Between the weirdo with a fishing rod and having to babysit  _ my _ behind, I’m sure it’s been a time of it.”

“Hey!,” he countered, “I mean,” his eyes searched for a moment before settling on, plainly, “Only one of those two things has been  _ all _ bad, y’know.”   
  


“H-hey!,” he caught himself in time to moderate that reaction a bit, “er. I, mean, I’m glad I haven’t been  _ too _ much to put up with, eheh,” he smiled a yielding, toothy grin.   
  


“Well  _ yeah _ !,” he chirped, setting a pot of water to boil on the eye of his stove, “I mean, it’s not like it’s  _ not _ cool to have someone to hang out with…! It’s, uh. Not like I get to do that too often, eheh.”   
  


Boruto grappled with a reply for a moment, but each he thought felt too shallow, or too irreverent, or… not enough of  _ something _ . So he stayed silent.   
  


His voice shone as he continued, thinking along, “Y’know, yeah, I don’t think I’ve… had friends over to spend the night before.”   
  


Boruto did his best to choke his reaction down, thinking reflexively of the number of sleepovers in his young life he’d already experienced, reflecting on that one time Shikadai came over, and the time Mitsuki visited, and the—he stopped counting there, upon the realization of just how much longer a list he could generate if he so desired.   
  


_ And I’m… Dad’s first friend to have a sleepover. _

Bent eyebrows and curled lips hid the pang in his heart, choking out, “H-hey, that’s cool at least, right? I’m… glad to get to hang out with you, Naruto. You’re really cool.”

The so-referenced turned to look at Boruto, sheepish but wide-eyed, but his housemate had turned to face the cupboard, seemingly shuffling through it for seasonings. (Boruto was alternating the same three bottles in a row in idle busywork, an excuse to remain turned away from his compatriot.)   
  


“Hey…! Th-thanks, Boruto, you’re really cool too! You’re so smart and, like… you’re really good at figuring out what you need to do and you’re nice and—”   
  


“—I’m not  _ that _ great, sheesh!, “ a shaky voice cut him off, back still turned. The boy’s grip tightened around the neck of the bottle he held. After a moment, he segued, saying, “Hey, I’m actually not sure I’m super hungry. Do you need the bathroom? ‘Cuz I think I could use a bath, eheh.”   
  


Naruto, taking the statement at immediate face value, paused for a moment to consider, “Oh! Uh… nah, I’m good, go ahead!, “ A thought occurred, “Uh. You don’t have a change, right, if you want you can borrow some of my clothes...?”   
  


“Oh, uh, sure! Thanks, yeah!” he said, unmoving but for a gracious wave.   
  


“Cool!,” he looked to the now-boiling water on the stove, clicking the knob of the eye off, “This is almost done, you can go ahead and I’ll grab ya something in, like, five minutes if you wanna go ahead,” he offered.

Boruto takes the cue and shuffles, unturning, towards the bathroom with a friendly wave back, “I appreciate it…! Uh, yeah, you know where to find me,” end of the sentence echoing a half-beat before the  _ click _ of the bathroom door hinge. 

***

Boruto languished in his father's—er, Naruto's— bathroom. All the thoughts scrambling through his brain elbowed and shoved each other, each demanding full attention before being shouted down by another thought, equally as urgent and quickly dismissed as the one before it. 

So much of Boruto's frustration with his father in the present day stemmed from the perception that, since he's so widely liked and well-regarded, that none seem willing to acknowledge his existent, exhausting flaws. It was an odd brain space, to say the least, to feel the opposite compulsion towards the man in this time period. To, instead of wondering 'why can no one see the bad in him, despite the good', to wonder…

_ Why doesn't anyone see the good in him, in spite of the bad stuff?! _

It was just so… immediately evident to the boy, all the good things in his father's heart; his steadfast spirit shone just as clear in this day and age as in Boruto’s present, his courage, his cheer, his— _ ugh _ .   


  
Boruto winced his eyes shut, slumping deeper into the bath in which he stewed. He watched his form slip into the sudsy surface of the water, hoping it’d swallow up any of these stupid  _ emotions _ that slithered through his mind, sweep them away just as easily as the soap. The water precipice rippled; he sat still enough, long enough, that it began thrumming in calm time with his pulse. His unusually speedy pulse.   
  


Ugh.

A gentle sting—Boruto pulled his right hand out of the bath, seeing the shallow, jagged edges of the wounds his father inflicted pallid from soaking. He felt like he swallowed a bite of  _ something  _ that was too big, that he hadn’t quite chewed as much as he needed to. Perhaps he had.   
  


Naruto would never mean to hurt him. He knew that.

Not now, not ever. He never did.

Though there was no one around but himself to convince, he was thankful for the plausible deniability for reasons why his cheeks were hot and wet.

_ Maybe I should. Get out of the bath. _

He felt an indistinct, uncomfortable stirring in his stomach at the idea. For a moment, he puzzled, then realized—ugh, not being in  _ here _ meant being out  _ there _ , near  _ him _ . A sigh, then a resigned scoff at himself.  _ Maybe I’ll actually think about him  _ ** _less_ ** _ out there _ .   
  


It was worth a shot.

***

Naruto wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, done with his dinner, padding his was to his bedroom to find his new friend some pajamas. He grinned. He was happy he was grinning. It was a feeling he hadn’t got to feel too much these past few days, considering, well.   
  


He was still sad about his missing friend. But his heart held on to this  _ new _ friend, the one that’d literally  _ fallen _ into his life out of nowhere! And it held on to the determination of the Truth in his heart, that he  _ would _ save his friend, so… this was really just a  _ temporary _ thing! At least, he assured himself as such.   
  


He still couldn’t believe it; he thought as his shuffled through his drawers for, um… clean clothes, he realized in short order, again at how  _ nice _ Boruto was!! How he  _ believed _ him!  _ Nobody ever does that!  _ He’d long since learned to silence his many critics and disbelievers, but he hadn’t even had the  _ chance  _ to develop responses to  _ earnest encouragement! _ There was a tiny beat of concern, that there must be  _ some _ motive for this stranger’s seemingly-unconditional kindness, but the concern quickly waned in favor of sheer gratitude.

He shook out a wrinkled, but otherwise clean, shirt. He considered it for a moment;  _ he _ would have had no issue whatsoever putting the wrinkled tee on right then and there, but for some reason, thinking of Boruto, of his bright smile, bright eyes, bright voice—he wasn’t sure why, but he felt like his guest deserved better than this.    
  


_ Maybe he’s a guardian angel,  _ he thought half-sincerely.

Then again, it’d make just about as much sense as the rest of this.

***

A knock on the bathroom door preceded him, Naruto piping up and offering through the closed door, “I got a shirt and some shorts for ya! They’re right outside the door.”   
  


Boruto stood, fluffing his blond mop of hair in the towel for a second before draping it over his shoulders, replying, “Thanks!” in a voice exactly as calm as he wasn’t.

He stared at the door there separating them, a sanctum of a divider in this moment, swallowing something once more at the thought of breaking that precipice. He surely wasn’t still standing there, he thought, but stood unmoving regardless. The thought of Naruto accidentally seeing him…  _ exposed _ as such made him feel… well, he wasn’t quite sure  _ how _ it made him feel. He just knew it made him feel a  _ lot _ .

A sigh.

Who knows how much time elapsed until he mustered both the bravery and the assurance to turn the knob, but after however long, a cautious hand turned it slowly (so slowly). He looked around the corner the cracked door created, peering, reassuring himself before snaking a hand out and blindly groping, feeling until he felt the fabric and grabbing like a greedy squirrel as soon as he did. The shirt and bottoms he grabbed were, what he suspected to be, Naruto’s best attempt at folding clothes nicely, though still clearly retrieved from a pile in the floor. He shook out the shirt, holding it before him for a moment before squirming it over his head. He peered down to inspect it once it was on and, he… his nose was itchy, is what he told himself, scruffing the collar of the tee and brushing it up against the base of his nose.   
  


The fact he could smell the fabric was, of course, a complete coincidence.

His dad still had the same scent. His eyebrows furrowed at about twelve implications at the thought—principally, the fact his was  _ aware  _ of what his father smelled like in the present, enough to compare and contrast it to the boy’s lingering scent intertwined in the fabric—but shook his head in a frustrated huff.  _ Okay, of course he does, who cares. Why wouldn’t he. _

_ Why would you care, you little idiot. _

Ugh.

Huffily, he enrobed the rest of the way, hopping into the shorts and brushing himself off before clearing his throat and braving the unknown beyond the door. With a sigh and a shove, he opened it, seeing his current housemate in his adjacent bedroom, already in his bedclothes and his night cap, shuffling around on the floor to get the spare bedroll ready for Boruto.

“Welcome back,” Naruto chirped, sitting on his knees, looking up upon hearing the door and perking up. The pom-pom at the end of his hat bobbled with the motion.   
  


“Mhmm,” he hummed, “Thanks for the duds, dude.”   
  


“No problem! Pretty lucky that we’re about the same size, huh.”   
  


“Ahahahehehe yeah it sure it,” Boruto croaked, craning his neck to keep his gaze avoidant, scratching his crown.

“And you’re sure your master or whoever-the-heck is good?” the boy looked up, still buzzing with excitement.

“Oh, him? Yah, absolutely,” he reassured as he closed the gap between the two with his gait. He was thankful for Sasuke’s absence.  _ Why am I thankful for Sasuke’s absence. _

“Good. Don’t need another earful from Tsunade, ugh.”

Boruto looked down at the boy, his fathers’ expression one of apprehensive disdain. But it appeared fleeting, seeing Naruto again notice the task to which he was set—he was helping make a place for his new friend to sleep! Who cared about old Tsunade right now, he thought, smile beaming and breaking through his grimace, a full grin.

Boruto swallowed and felt a pang he couldn’t quite place when he saw that smile.

His frustrated mind pingponged around the room, the boy’s utilitarian room, mostly bare for a few token decorations or plants, a photo of his team ( _ Kakashi has barely changed in twenty years, huh,  _ he would think), and little else. He couldn’t help but compare it to his own, his own cluttered, decorated quarters, littered with mementos, family photos and gadgets and memories and—then, there was this.

He didn’t even realize his hand clutched the fabric of the tee over his chest.  _ Why why why does this suck so bad why do I  _ ** _hurt_ ** _ hoo boy this has gotta stooop. _   
  


The visitor’s emotions began to win out, compulsing him to look around and… he wasn’t sure. What was he trying to accomplish? Heavens only knew. But regardless, he began to scan, looking to his best attempt at tidily laying out the mat for him, to the boy’s bed, sheets disheveled and bundled.    
  


“Hey,” Boruto muttered, “I’ma, uh, get a glass of water,” feeling ulterior motives in his own words, but unsure of his motive himself.

“Go ahead,” Naruto granted, gesturing but not looking up.

Wordlessly, he slipped out of the room and back the short way to the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and looked at the cups before him; he wondered if they were all glass, or if—yep, Naruto had a few plastic cups, he noticed, fishing his hand a bit deeper in the cabinet to grab one of those. He still wasn’t quite sure why that mattered?

He filled his cup at the faucet, but not all the way, maybe a quarter of the vessel. Idle hands swirled the liquid, curious eyes looking into the little spiral it made in the water. After a moment, with a hitched breath, he made his way back to the bedroom.

_ What are you doing you little dumbass _

He again stood before Naruto, done with his task and now sitting on the edge of his own bed. The boy would have a start at Boruto’s return, but one that quickly turned to excitement once more. His guest moved cautious and attentive, watching Naruto far more than he was watching his own path of egress.   
  


“Oh, you found  _ that _ cup!,” Naruto chittered, “Yah, no, one of the ramen brands had a special promotion a while back where their instant cups were made of that reuseab—”

“— _ Damnit!” _ Boruto spat with a stepped stumble, arms stretched outward to his sides while he lurched forwards; his big toe seemingly caught the edge of the sheet on his way in, and he clumsily tripped over his own shins as he found his footing once more.  _ Which is, definitely the thing that had just occurred _ , Boruto would reassure himself.

“You okay?!” Naruto started to rise, but his friend raised his hand to halt him.   


“Yeah! Well, I’m fine other than bein’ clumsy and embarrassed, eheh.”   


“Well _ that’s _ good at least, phew…”   
  


“Yeah! … Well, except, a li’l bad news, “ Boruto would cluck, concerned expression baring downwards; square in the center of Naruto’s handiwork now lie a huge wet puddle next to an adjacent overturned cup, soaking the mat, sheets,  _ and _ pillow concurrently. “Ughugh, I am  _ so  _ sorry Naruto, and you just put in all that ha—”   
  


“It’s okay! It’s okay, don’t worry about it, it was just an accident!” he would quickly reassure, “a-and besides,” he continued, voice small and cautious, “was that, uh… your right hand.”    
  


“N-no! Well,  _ yes _ , I’m right-handed so it was, but I  _ promise _ that wasn’t the scratch, okay?” Boruto waved both hands in front of himself rapidly in a reassuring gesture. “You coulda given me twenty hands and I probably still woulda found some way to pull that off…”   
  


“A-alright, if you say so… and h-hey, bright side, at least it wasn’t a glass to break—”   
  


“Hahahaha, yeah, wow, super lucky on that one huh,”   
  


“And it’s  _ just _ water so we just gotta let these things dry and they’ll be fine, “ Naruto stood, scratching his head while he inspected the now thoroughly-dampened bedclothes, “but I just feel bad because that was… basically the only spare I had, oops.”   
  


“No no don’t feel bad!!” he continued to reassure. He swallowed a half-cough, debating his next suggestion for only a moment before wild-eyed impulsiveness in his heart won the day, croaking in a tone just to the left of sincere, “I uh, don’t want to impose but uh…. If  _ you’re _ cool with it, then… I’m sure you don’t have cooties or anything, it’s not like it’d bother me to uh—”   
  


“Oh  _ duh! _ , “ Naruto would beam, solution to the problem now so obvious! “Yeah! I didn’t wanna offer in case that was weird, I’m not… the best judge of what’s weird or not, eheh, b-but yeah! If you don’t have a problem with bein’ in the same bed as m—”   
  


“I do not.”   
  


“...me, then that works just as well, huh?”

“Y-yeah! Just… just as well!”

Boruto had many possible future roads he could choose to pursue and excel at. Acting was not among those roads.

There were concurrent, wrestling thoughts in the visitor’s mind;  _ Mission accomplished _ , and  _ what in the world do you mean by ‘mission accomplished’ you little weirdo aah!! _

Naruto’s visitor did his best to offer a natural smile, scooping up the wet sheets from the floor, “I’ll drag these out, ‘s the least I can do, eheh…” 

But he wouldn’t let that stand, scampering up and adding, “I can help, I can help, it’s fine!!”

He would already be in egress to the bathroom when the boy bear-hugged the opposite end of the laundry, easing his load as Boruto protested, “Seriously, it’s all g—” but, it would be to no effect, greeted on the opposite end with a big, impish smile, one that was defiant even in its insistence to aid.

Boruto grumbled. But, objectively, it made the task much easier, and it was no time before the duo decided that the sheets would be fine overnight and tossed the bundle into the bath to be their problem at a later date.

(Many things, Boruto suspected, may become problems at a later date thanks to his actions here, but that was a problem for then, not now.) 

They returned to the bedroom, shoulder to shoulder. But, only Boruto would hesitate at the precipice of the door jamb, Naruto having no compunction with regards to barreling through straight to his mattress. He was  _ tired _ . His visitor hesitated, like he was waiting for some unspoken, invisible cue, but his host clambered into the sheets like a ferret, all sprawled joints and coltish legs scrambling into the blankets on all fours, head-first, before shuffling some unseen shuffle and poking his head out proper. That seemed like as much a cue as any.

As he stepped into the bedroom, wordlessly he flicked the lightswitch. Now, the concealing darkness cradled them both.

***

Every motion he made was scripted. Boruto felt like some weird robot right now. He sat on the edge of the bed—so, so carefully—before letting the heels of his palms rest there as well. Closer knee hitch towards the bed. Closer elbow support. Grab edge of blanket. Parachute it enough to slip under. Roll on side. Away from D-Naruto. Do not lie facing Naruto. Do  _ not _ . Try. To. Act  _ normal. _

Naruto adjusted on the mattress, rustling his compatriot. He rolled over, restless, and asked in a whisper, “How long did you say you think you two were gonna be in town, again…?”   
  


A pit in Boruto’s stomach sank, some part of him wanting to make a snide remark to the effect of ‘well, I’ll see ya in twenty or so years for sure buddy’, but replying, “I wish I could say for sure,” and there was an audible dip in the boy’s voice as he continued, “but it’s not going to be too long, I’m sure. Maybe a week at most.”   
  


“Oh.”   
  


The boy couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. Of course, he  _ knew _ —well, no, he didn’t know  _ really _ what was up, this whole situation was still beyond him—but he knew that this was fleeting, that he’d already been warned that Boruto’s visit was temporary. But he didn’t really like thinking about that.

His son’s intonation mirrored his own, “Yeah.”   
  


His thoughts marching straight from his mind out of his lips, Naruto continued, “I really wish you didn’t have to go.”   
  


The bed rattled with the start that grasped the other boy, entire body puckering in to some unseen center. Again, he reminded himself— _ do not lie facing Naruto _ . Especially now.

He coughed out, “Me either…! Boy do I wish I didn’t have to, Naruto. It really sucks a lot,” his frank manner dampening the perceived intensity of the sentiment.

“Ugh!” Naruto groused, rolling to lie on his back, pouty arms crossed over his chest, “I’m gonna miss you a lot.”   
  


“You’ll…!” Boruto caught himself, just in the nick of time, from blurting out that he’d see him again, not to worry, please don’t worry, but he stopped himself and managed, “I have a really good feeling this isn’t the last time our paths are gonna cross.”   
  


“Good! It better not be!” the boy huffed, still pouting.   
  


_ It won’t it won’t it won’t it won’t it won’t it w— _

“I promise…!”   
  
****

** _Do not lie facin—_ **   
  


Boruto rolled over to lie facing his father. He relinquished. The universe won, he decided. Naruto’s head craned to see his companion now facing him, bleary-eyed and earnest and desperate to communicate  _ something _ , the  _ something  _ of which was unclear. It met with his own concerned, but meager gaze.   
  


His father’s face softened from concern to hope. He repeated back sheepishly, “You promise..?”

“ _ Yes _ …!” he coughed, unable to hide the pain marring his words any better than that. He cleared his throat in time, recomposing, punctuating, “Yes, absolutely, this is gonna be one of those times where I’m gonna be weird and vague and you’re just gonna have to go with it, but, I, yeah. I promise, Naruto.”

The so-reference blinked. He could tell his bedmate had watery eyes, but he wasn’t quite sure why? But when he spoke, and he smiled— _ he’s sorta… catty,  _ the boy would remark internally, seeing a familiar warm, vulpine smirk but conveying some more clever edge, a more pensive, observant sort of smile, catlike in his unknown magic—his anxiety over Boruto’s inevitable departure dissipated into nothing, lashed lids curved and kind. It was an infectious expression; shortly, Naruto grinned back, nodding gratefully but saying nothing.

Time passed.

His houseguest would have been laying there in serene silence for a good few beats, rolling onto his back with aimless eyes staring at the ceiling; the pallid glow of the moon, hung high in a cloudless, cobalt sky, gave the entire bedroom an ethereal glow in the moment. Naruto shuffled next to him, but only to adjust (he assumed). Glance bouncing over, he saw the mop of a boy bundled up but—he couldn’t tell you how, but he was confident he was still awake. Maybe it was the years of experience of seeing that same boy lounging on the couch in their living room, able to discern at that point if his old man was just dozing a little, or passed out completely. Maybe it was his breathing, he thought. He caught himself following the calm hefts of his resting form, the gentle slumping. He blinked; with a light head shake his gaze, and thoughts, meandered. He saw the ugly cut glances that had followed them home in his mind's eye. He’d seen the adults around him shoo him off and dismiss him, these random shop keepers scoffing at  _ his father _ —he’d seen it plenty, and he  _ had only been there a few days _ .

_ Good lord. So like… how often does he have to deal with it in general…? _

_ Nobody deserves that. _

_ He... _   
  


“Hey, “ he offered, soft, not waiting for any particular confirmation of Naruto’s present consciousness, “you don’t… you didn’t deserve it, y’know?”

“What, that Momowhatever guy earlier?, “ he chirped back, perking up like a dog to the sound of Boruto’s voice, “I know! Who the h—”   
  


“N-no, not. Well, yes, Momoshiki too, you  _ totally _ don’t deserve that, either, ahah… but um, no, “ Boruto fidgeted, realizing that he did not necessarily have the trajectory of this conversation planned, “When you were out of it earlier, Jiraiya told me about, uh… y’know. How you got the fox spirit in you and how, like… the village treats you over it.”

“O-oh,” Naruto replied, yielding, a little embarrassed, “Yeah, eheh, I’m not… I’m no favorite around here,” he petered off, but his sincerity snatched his despair and catapulted it back to its standard orbit, morphing to determination, even with his sleepy timbre, “But! That’s all the more reason I gotta prove ‘em all wrong, y’know?” Unconsciously, the boy bounced rhythmically on the bed, just a little, continuing with a grin and gripped digits on sheets (only a little worried), “And why I gotta become the Hokage!! I… know I can win ‘em over, y’know?”

Boruto choked on the weight of the voice of Truth lingering in his throat. How much was he allowed to  _ say _ ?! His thoughts poured effusive, desperate praise towards his father, emphatically pleading  _ you will you will I promise I promise you on my life Dad you’re gonna get there you’re gonna be the Hokage and everyone will see what a wonderful person you are please hang in here I’m so sorry why is there no one else fucking around to take care of you you deserve so much better you deserve the moon and the stars and a happy home and of all PEOPLE with all the terrible— _ his eyes winced shut as soon as he felt the war tears pooling in the corners of his eyes,  _ not now nope not now _ . 

He managed to pass off his stifling as a choked cough, and in a metered way, replied, “I know you can too. I’m sure your face in stone is gonna be on that mountain before you even know it…! I... know you can do it, I know you can win ‘em over," his wavering turning to the familiar bolstering glow, grinning, "I mean, how could anyone  _ not _ like you?!”

Naruto was taken aback for a second, unaccustomed to his dreams being considered realistic, but gratefully added, "Yeah! I-I will, y'know! Geez, Boruto, at least I know  _ someone  _ smart enough to know that I'm right about things  _ sometimes. _ "

“ _ Geez, _ ” Boruto mirrored, clucking with a grin.

“Oh yeah, hey—have you been okay? It feels like you’ve been, I dunno… shaking?” Naruto would puzzle.

“Oh, yeah, no!” he dismissed, “I’m, cold, is all.”   
  


“Oh, “ he said, flat, scooting and continuing, “Well why didn’t ya just say so, dummy,” rolling over, arms draping over Boruto’s chest like one more blanket on top of them, pressing his face into his new friend’s chest as he immediately lost consciousness once more.

Klaxon alarms clamored through his son’s mind, his own arm snapping up like a trap at the gesture, having to consciously mediate exactly how he wanted to… place? Himself? Rapidly he weighed the pros and cons of shoving the boy off—wouldn’t that hurt his feelings worse?  _ What, are ya gonna explain to him  _ ** _why_ ** _ you’re so cagey about bein’ like this with him? _ And so, metered, like testing the temperature of a bath, Boruto allowed his arm to fall over Naruto in return, tracking every teeny bit of pressure he exerted to ensure it was a “normal” amount (whatever that value was). His grim expression shot straight up, clawing across the ceiling of the room for  _ any _ little detail he could hold onto, anything to avoid seeing…

Ah damn.

Boruto looked down.

There his father’s face—it was different, but so  _ clearly  _ him, the man he’d known his entire young life, this was  _ him _ doubtlessly—lie before him, occlusive light from the patient moon making the blond edges of his hair halo around his face; it made it all the more cherubic, lapping little glowing edges around his visage. He was so bright. He always has been.

It wasn’t information that Boruto was gathering for the first time—but it was the first time he’d truly  _ inspected _ this feeling, turned it over in his hands and found its name.

His dad was so, so bright.

Boruto winced. It was too bright, just there for a second. They say you shouldn’t look right at the Sun, it can make your eyes water.

It was a familiar brightness, but… the boy gulped, he was not accustomed to seeing it this, untouched. Unspoilt. The father he knew was an interminable ray of sunshine, but a ray with smoothed edges and an even keel, a brightness tempered by a life that seeks to smooth out your rough edges and dim you down. His dad was bright, but tired. He would always quietly harbor resentment at the idea his dad always, always seemed tired.    
  


Now he sort of got it.

There is a difference between being tired and  _ exhausted _ .

And he couldn’t help but think of what was to  _ come _ , what it was that was going to so burnish his father’s spirit. Like the tides, like the rising of the sun, the pain Naruto would endure was inevitable, with any attempts to intervene being a farce. He thought about the twenty years he would have to endure to reach the point that he knew him. He thought about the countless trials and tribulations that life would throw at this boy, none of which he deserved, none of which Boruto could do a single damn thing about. He felt like he sat on a cold shoreline, trying to shield some poor animal from the frigid, splashing tides, weak fingers cupped around it. 

He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save him. The thought kept echoing in his head, each peal more painful than the one preceding it. 

But.

As much as he couldn’t prevent a frail creature on a shoreline from being accosted by the dousing waves,  _ he could at least lessen it _ .

He couldn’t prevent the tides. But he could damn sure at least  _ prevent the pain of a single wave _ .

And that mattered.

Nothing should have ever, ever dulled Naruto’s sheen, he would think, and the indignation and rage in his heart at the idea that anything ever  _ would _ could have started a blaze but—he could help.

He can help make him the tiniest, tiniest bit brighter in the future.

He allowed himself to hold on to his father a little bit tighter than “normal.”

_ who cares _

Naruto’s warmth sank through them both. He rest heavy and hard, like a tired puppy, snoring lightly on the boy’s chest. He had such a fragile heft about him, Boruto would note, feeling still so vulnerable. He couldn’t stop himself from giving him another little squeeze at the thought.

Whether it was fortunate or not was unknowable to Boruto, but whichever it was, it was Naruto stirring awake just a bit, just enough to cut the horizons of his ocean eyes up and ask, “Mm… everything okay, Boruto?”   
  


“Y-yeah! How come?” he whispered.   
  


“You’re kinda hugging me tight.”   
  


“Oh, sorry—! I—”   
  


“Hey, I didn’t say it say it was a  _ problem _ , just that I noticed it, eheh.”

After a moment of recalibration at the sentiment, the boy improvised, “Yeah! I guess… it’s kind of silly, but I guess I’m kinda… having bad dreams? About a friend I have who… looks a lot like you, is all.”   
  


“Oh. I’m s—”   
  


“And I really care a lot about this friend, and sometimes I just get… mad, because it seems like everything can be kinda mean to him for no good reason, even though he’s really sweet and determined and earnest, and… I can’t think of anyone that deserves bad things to happen to him less but things just kinda happen to him!” he spilled, edge of frustration making his words ragged.

“I’m really sorry about your friend, “ his sleepy friend would sympathize, “I hate that… kinda reminds me of how I feel about you, hehe…”   
  


“Couldn’t be,” Boruto volleyed back, proverbial underbelly too exposed for too long, demanding armor, and either brash insincerity or capricious honesty would win out, or in this particular case, both, as he countered, “I forgot to say my friend’s super cute, too,” with a barely-serious wink, but one mostly of playfulness, and punctuated with his tongue poking out for a moment.    
  


_ In for a penny, in for a pound and all that. _

“Oh, well, “ Naruto giggled, “cool, you still haven’t broken the combo then.”   
  


A strangled choke languished in his son’s throat as his neck craned high and hard, feeling the depth of the blush flushing his cheeks. Some serious, final warning lights desperately shone in his mind, emergency evacuation sirens sounding and violent, but the thing was: every other part of his mind was just about as disheveled and chaotic and unclear and hazy in this precise moment, so those desperate pleas to find the “Eject” button would fall onto deaf ears.

He wove his choked squeak into sentence pretty tidily, continuing in a mocking, insincere intonating, “Keep saying dumb stuff like that and I’m just gonna have to kiss ya  _ right _ on the lips,” the final word tumbling right into a wave of nervous, breathy giggles, awkwardly laughed out of a single corner of his mouth.

“Oh! Uh, well, I mean, “ he thought for just barely even a beat, “I wouldn’t stop ya, y’know.”

The bluntness of his statement robbed all the giggles out of Boruto’s poor lungs, sputtering in both words and body, involuntarily grasping his father’s back and a fistful of the night shirt resting over it. Apprehensive, terrified eyes braved to look down his own chest, seeing Naruto peering back, innocent smile and a quiet, hopeful, expectant aire. And even though his fearless gaze met Boruto’s dissociated, panicking ones, the eye contact alone was enough approval for Naruto before he took his housemate at the absolute most surface level possible. He craned his jaw up.

_ NOPE NOPE NOPE N— _   
  


Boruto’s hand snapped between their faces, palm towards his host, quick as a flash, concurrent with him snapping his cheek to the forefront. He stammered in desperation,” _ WAIT wait wait wait wait. _ ”   
  


Naruto froze, offering only a concerned whimper against Boruto’s palm, but did as requested, and waited. He looked worried, speaking through his fingers, “S-sorry! Sorry, I totally misread you, I didn’t mean to m—”   
  


“Nonono you... , “ he winced, “...didn’t misread me, I just…”   
  


Boruto’s despondent mind ruffled through and discarded option after option of courses of action; if he completely shut Naruto down, it would… break his heart,  _ apparently _ , as the boy mused darkly; perhaps he wouldn’t be so upset by the rejection if he could explain wh—and then he would get caught on the heaviness of the confession, of the weight of “I’m actually your future-son and I was totally trying to mack on you,” of realizing how farcical the idea that would help the kid in this moment one bit.    
  


And besides; his hand restraining Naruto loosened.   
  


Why did he need to know?   
  


He didn’t. Not right now at least. Right now it didn’t matter, not one bit,  _ right now _ they were just a pair of twelve-year-olds that the Fates so comically entangled, two peers, two equals, two… kids, two dumb kids having a sleepover.

And that’s all they needed to be.

_ Right now _ , he could help make Naruto just a bit brighter, protect that glowing spirit the tiniest amount, shield him from even the tiniest bit of unnecessary pain. He couldn’t do much—but he  _ could _ be there for Naruto.

But still, he sniffed and continued, releasing his hand from his compatriot’s face, meekly adding, “I… I’m being weird. You didn’t misread me. I… wanna, too, but, “ he turned his visage, groping for words and hiding to do so, “...will you let me be kinda weird again?”   
  


“You can be kinda weird any time you want.”   
  


“Great. I promised you somethin’ earlier, do you think… do you think you could return the favor…?”   
  


Naruto cocked a vacant eyebrow.   
  


“So, it’s another one of those times where I’m gonna have to be vague and confusing and crazy, but, just, roll with it, alright? Because I’m gonna… say something that doesn’t make, like, any damn sense to you at all right now,” terrified eyes tight as vices, terrified voice heaving each word out like an exhausted mason.   
  


“Well, that’s not a really high bar but—”   
  


“— _ But _ , I just… need you to trust me that, I’m not just crazy, alright?”   
  


“Boruto, “ he would assure, “It’s  _ fine _ , what do ya want me to promise?”   
  


He took a deep breath, finally offering rehearsed and plain, “Can you… promise me, Naruto, that… you won’t forget this?”   


“What? Why th—”   


  
“I have  _ no idea _ why ya would, no idea, it’s just… it’s not that I’m afraid that you  _ will _ , per se, I guess I’m just real afraid that you  _ might _ .”

He withdrew like indebted servant, waiting for the moment to reach its crisis, convinced each second was twenty. 

But his father took his request with no pretense, plucking it and handing his new friend the simple reply, “Of course! I promise, Boruto. I won’t forget.”

The duo’s eyes met once more, the father’s compliant and warm, the son’s nervous and hesitant, but softening, the unbridled happiness in his chest thrumming out, each beat taking with it a nerve or a worry, each beat stealing away a second into nonexistence, both blonds crystallized in this moment outside of temporal space. Only now mattered.   
  


With a huff, Boruto pouted, “ _ Good, _ ” breaking the precipice before his wiser natures won out; he plunged down like a duck diving, eyes locked as their lips did the same. They both muttered some nothings against the other, but not before settling into this curious liminal space, each relaxing and easing into their lips a bit softer. For exactly as long as his spirit could tolerate it he there remained, but with a shuddered gasp Boruto peeled up for breath, taking two huffs of air before continuing, “You  _ better _ not.”

Blinkered and processing, Naruto boggled for a moment before laughing with a grin, leaning up but only bonking their foreheads together, chiding him, “Don’t worry, I promise, and I  _ always _ keep my promises. It’s—”   
  


“—Your ninja way, yeah yeah,” nuzzling a cheek against his bedmate.

“Mhmm! ...wait, how did you know that?”   
  


_ Oh. Crud. _

Naruto wouldn’t question the strange spell of sleep that seemed to strangle Boruto in precisely that moment. And Boruto would hope against all possible hope that, come the next morning, his dad would remember everything  _ except _ that very last question.


End file.
